URLtv – JC Vs. Rum Nitty lyrics

[Round 1: Rum Nitty]
It took you 56 battles to finally get your foot inside the door
You had all them shots though, my nigga
All them shots and you finally made it
That’s why they criticize the form
And for the record, we was never cool
Let’s get it correct
So you personally talkin’ ‘bout me leavin’? You can dead it, nigga
Simple as that, or a kick behind your head
Soon as you put the Bloque in your mouth
All that history’s X’d
I’m a cool nigga, but I’m still with the shit
Mil in the grits
I got shots for everybody here in this bitch
It’s a gun line in every lyric I spit
‘Cause I’m honestly next to a Tommy, I’m bein’ sincere as it gets
I put a beam right here on the stick
I gave this SKS dots, now Carter gotta deal with the kicks
You see what talkin’ gets you?
They think my lines ain’t special
‘Til they lose in the ring
‘Cause the flow on point, this a Sonic level
All kinda action
Clip long as a Bible chapter
Let one ring wit the arm like a tribal pattern
Die in fashion
Your heart rate on the E.K.G machine tryin’ to flatten
Now the God Pen depend on God to get line reaction
I let lead cook, your set left shook
One shot give ya top the T-Top Chef Trez push
Let it bang
Arizona heat, put one in your mind soon (monsoon) as the desert rang (rain)
I keep a stainless, but if I don’t shoot you
I’mma noose you
If you don’t get the pound I leave you hangin’
Nah fuck that
Bring two bangers, point ‘em ya way (Yaweh)
Then yes, you a (Yeshua) be missin’ J like the Hebrew language
You bitchmade, timid
I walk up on ya whip then raise wit it
Then put the five on the glass like a inmate visit
Big gauge grippin’
I come after the Bloque wavin’ one like Dikembe did it
I’m dishin’ shots out
You know I been wit the joint, by the leg where this located (dislocated)
You get hyper? Extended pop out
I’m in yo city wit a rocket
I hit Michigan and pop it
If Rum run in the Yak, a prohibition couldn’t stop it
You get the heavy chop
Off the chain wit it
Draggin’ a piece through J hood since I left da block
Get ya momma, uncle, auntie popped
Shootin’ wit two arms
But shit a get ugly for him when his granny shot
Then Danny knock
And Danja get the cannon (Kannon)
You know the story
Then after I turn up in J’s spot, I’mma .40 40
Catch Chilla bitch ass, load the chrome
Somethin’ little blew (blue), and traveled through his body
Like osmosis, Jones
You thought I left the fo’ at home?
I keep it loaded in the grey hoodie, I never leave my nose alone
I couldn’t coincide witchu bitches
Stand on the same side witchu bitches
Yo niggas got punches that land
Mine don’t even fuck with the cam
J, our riders (J.R. Rider) is different
Fuck you, you can’t keep it real to yourself
Nigga suicide or I’ll do the job, you decide
Kill yourself


[Round 1: JC]
Summer Madness 6
It’s Rum Nitty, versus…
You do know you got me all the way fucked up tonight, right!?
Every line I’m dumpin’, Rum
Absolute respect to your new team, and understand where I’m comin’ from
It’s one-on-one
Do not jump into a round tonight, unless you will jump in front of one!
Because me, I’m willin’ to pull right up
Niggas like us don’t like to hear them stories from afar
I made a way in (Wayan), got Loc-Dawg'ed, I’m talkin’ empty .40’s in the yard
This will not be that great sequel nigga, face it now
Buck fifty when they see you with the razor out
The scar gon’ haunt you, I’m talkin’ Ray Finkel with the laces out
This ain’t just about grabbin’ weapons
We don’t tolerate shit jumpin’: that’s the message
Now it’s like, who boy is this? He food, poisonin’
And ever since you been wit' Homi they done had a staff (staph) infection
If we both great at what we do, then why do I leave Earth and they give you sky limits?
That’s ‘cause I’m different
I mean, we both gifted, but when you bring that gift to JC, be wise wit' it
Because you all do it, you bite, and don’t even know the author
I mean, you might’ve sharpened the kick like Logan daughter
But y’all reincarnations of the last Jew
Hopeless wit' it
And off that, you are as innocent as...O.J
You see where I’m goin’ wit' it?
His bars? The verdict and that trial? No conviction!
All that for nothin’
Every time somebody mention “crip” you gotta throw a C up
Well, if you wanna talk doin’ some bars, don’t try to hold that shit until now
Lettin’ them give you holiday heart, then we gotta hear a nigga bitch through a round
Naw! NAW!
Bonnie and Clyde, I throw a shot
Then a nigga bitch threw a round
I strike the iron while it’s hot
The silencers music to ears
Damn near musical chairs...'cause soon as it get silent, niggas drop
And this new wave, it’s a lot of niggas rappin’ ‘bout cartoons, Nitty
I like burners!
I don’t got shit to say about anime (Anna Mae): I’m Ike Turner!
But every bar, he gon’ bring my family harm
Wit these king size…candy bars
You really gon’ walk over me?
You need to stay off the grass, please
Like, like...Stanley yard
‘Cause that ain’t nothin’ but dirt any damn way
I know, ‘nother Friday line, right?
And I told y’all I would like to be done
But it’s too easy to make a punch bowl and you know you gotta spike it wit Rum
I done changed the whole style for this nigga
But not only ‘cause y’all miss shit
Instead of takin’a slit wrist I took a big risk
And made every step count, like a Fitbit
Well, it’s a new sheriff in this bitch
Why? ‘Cause I’m back and deadly
I don’t pull cards, I pull up
And ya’ll niggas have them ready
Nigga, chest shot, big revolver
More than one go through
Now his core openin’ up, like Tez in The Untold Truth
Pull your heart out
‘Cause everybody get on this stage wit' war stories
You niggas is awful
Got shots and let it burn like Usher?
Yeah, well, when these ratchets talk, they gon’ literally cost you
It’s certain niggas that move real presidential with this shit
That’s me
I’m that cold, and Powell (Colin Powell) just another nigga in the mix
I’ve been crazy, and you’ve never warred wit a nigga who pen crazy
But I’ve been fightin’
And no matter how much crack you stuff when that pen lightin’
They only know you for the punch
I get ‘em drugged through a setup, I’m indictin’
And of course, I heard all your past callouts
And I didn’t wanna be the one to say it was lame
But nobody else heard it
You see how that placement done change?
I mean, that was live, but I’m more 2K
So remember how you got your face in the game
It’s bodybags at every battle, make sure your homie found one
But do not jump in that bitch yet, ‘cause this is only round one


[Round 2: Rum Nitty]
A casket what you catch
I pull up on your set y’all get y’all a strap
You’ll hear it barkin’ from the whip like animal neglect
Then I left dawg in Pontiac
If I catch you playin’, its reverends prayin’, and heaven’s waitin’
Then J get some type of engine wit him, like Hector laced it
Somethin’ heavy wavin’
It hit, then it push back the block (Bloque), we on Tekken playin’
I put the steel up to cuz
Let it give J the fire (Jada Fire): your whole career gettin’ fucked! Let’s get it poppin’
I leave a nigga from the Bloque (block) shot wit his wig out
I been the wildest
If a nigga try me, it’s gon’ get you bodied
Behind the mic, I dead dancers: you a Thriller zombie
My nigga Murda was pushin’ you all across frontstage
You wouldn’t say shit
Stood there lookin’ like a shy nigga when he bump J
We all for trouble, load up let off a couple
Get dropped from the grip, easy as carpal tunnel
Knockin’ pieces of your body off when a hollow spark
This .50 sick, it can make all things fall apart
They said I was sittin’ on bars, I had to laugh
Nothin’ old, I keep a current flow with the pen, this is Alcatraz
Niggas know that I’m ridin’
Suppress the gun so the .40 is quiet
The nigga died…and had a moment of silence
Try me, play and it’s a homi
Smooth Criminal, you know I took the angle for a body
Stop it
Ain’t no bitch nigga gon’ play me
‘Cause it’ll be a wrap (rap)
Wit two arms behind his back, like the old JC
Nigga, play then you’ll get stretched, you from the gang then throw your set
You vicelord, right?
Well I put you under the five, and bang it to the left
That one a let you down
If you thought this “vice” verse a (vice versa) kill me its gon’ be the other way around
But niggas tellin’ me, I get all my bars from acting scenes y’all
But my rounds is live, you think cause it's from a movie, you gon’ die
That’s what Brandon Lee thought
I don’t understand ‘em
Same scenario
You cannot criticize the stance if the punch is landin’
Beam on it so I aim better
He try to run, then this a take a nigga back, it’s a slavecatcher
But who killed you is the main question
‘Cause I ain’t show my face, and kept my mouth zipped
I’m a Bape sweater
Gang member, give a fuck who came witcha
Black twelve, red both sides of J, I flu game niggas
And lil Tay Tay flatline told me, he brought a bag out for you
South Central they tried to give J rock (Roc), and it backfired on you
I pull a piece he pray “please”
You know how niggas talk to God when they dyin’, right?
Well in that situation is where I’ll be leavin’ (believe in) JC
Fuck you
You can’t keep it real to yourself
Nigga suicide or I’ll do the job, you decide



[Round 2: JC]
This whole punch, setup, delivery shit y’all do, not impressive
It predates y’all, that’s why the lane small
They all talk about the same killin’
I can make killin’ sound better than Nate Dogg
Rest in peace to a real one
Because that’s one life I’m sure we could glady exchange for this one by sunlight
I go AWOL (a wall), you don’t make it past, I’m Trump-like
I make the call, it’s a done deal, ain’t no helpin’ receivers
Relatives either
Shit if I holla “Gram” (hologram) you gon’ need Coachella to see her
We will never be the same, you take your throwaways you post ‘em on Twitter
Where nobody check for it
I take my throwaways and make somebody (some body) a throwaway ‘cause I get a check for it
Today of all days, you can expect the madness
Weapon blastin’, get all of ‘em smoked
Old school wit the stick like Atari remotes
But that just mean I’m pressed for action
You called me out often, damn near askin’ for a feature
But in complete fan mode, every jab was from the bleachers
And I’m like, “Well, this ain’t Good Burger, but everything I send bad
And that drive ain’t the same when you crash into the teacher”
Nigga, you be wit a different team every visit
So the next time you switch sides I’mma be waitin’ for the shot, just cherry-pickin’
The shit you do, ain’t even killin’, it’s barely crime
Two niggas, two nickels, each, change the paradigm (pair of dime)
Now you gotta shoot, rock his roof
Mouth open, shit spillin’ out
The choppa put him in his place like real estate
And that’s not a punch, it will flip a house
Yes, I brought somethin’ in this bitch that could leave him on the floor
But it might sound arrogant
And that’s ‘cause they ain’t check my ego (eagle) at the door
Headshot
All the way up until 2017 I’ve been killin’ plenty
Liftin’ arms without lendin’ any
And what’s worse, I got the vision to run this shit ‘til 2020 (20/20)
That throwaway you posted on Twitter, what’s that? Trash, at it’s best
I couldn’t even wait to hear what trash was next
They knew this Michigan nigga was sick when he left
But that’s why me comin’ back to play was such a magic step
Oh, but I’m not here to pass Roc
I’m ballhoggin’, I want the last shot
Got all his people clogged in the Camry, ridin’ down the street
And just hear a ratchet singin’, and I’m talkin’ all in the family
What makes it worse, the fuckin’ timin’
Dicaprio in Shutters Island, how my patience (patients) work
This, is a illegitimate stepson
Who left the Bloque for Homi and couldn’t catch one
But that’s why I spark y’all
And what a coincidence
The moonwalker’s arm strong (Armstrong)
Nigga, kneel (Neil), because son can shoot
But the pops louder than Lavar Ball
One time he was apart of all these crews, just like flashin’
Jumped ship one too many times, now he need a life jacket
That’s it, I’m done y’all


[Round 3: Rum Nitty]
Most of your best performances is when you battle your teammates
That’s when all of your bars hit
I get it
It’s easier to land punches against somebody you spar wit
Makes sense, but then you stay snappin’ on amateurs, debate this
When the last time we seen J black (Jayblac) on a champion?
Your soul liftin’, one in the dome hit him
Now Carter can’t feel his face, and got no ceiling
Hit yo city, pour wit me, dome kickin’
Takin’ a whole family out in Pontiac, I’m road trippin’
Your shit oozin’ if I snuff you
A cracked head expose inside of Carter, that’s Pookie with the buckle
Fuck you, I don’t feel his style
I mean, I understand wit the pen he wise (Pennywise), but he still a clown
You get it (It) now?
Simmer down, I don’t feel a clown
Your whole side get hit, no choir shit when I fire sticks
Big round, make a ultra sound (ultrasound) inside this bitch
They talk but duck me
And for the record, you’ll get the .50, thinkin’ Con a punch wit me
Dome shot, you fallin’ on your face
If you anticipated me droppin’ Carter, sorry for (4) the wait
He throw up a gang, I’ll lay somethin’
I guess since you doin’ all this actin’ out I should raid (charade) somethin’
Trey dumpin’, I don’t play wit no marks
This a grown man bodyin’ (body in) a bitch, like when Baby Boy start
Right in, put your G to sleep, and he’ll go clean to sleep
They’ll have to ice JC whole face, now he a Jesus piece
I run up on Loaded untucked and gun butt
If he go under the ladder, Lux gettin’ fucked up
But if that match is too much to ask then you gassin’
‘Cause facts is, I ain’t earn my respect, I snatched it
I grip a big desert, that shit’ll make a rider (Writer) book, off top like Karrine Steffans
It’s an adrenaline rush, lettin’ off shots, no audition
But I really get stoked (Chris Stokes) when the arm pop
He wanna die though, I pull a special-made custom auto
Then I raise iron like Cus D’Amato
I said what strap you peel wit? I get at you, real shit
If I send you the pound, your whole pack get aired out, like I vacuum sealed it
Trap talk, you know nothin’ ‘bout it
But you do be snappin’ on ‘em I can’t lie, he’s unbelievable
But you not believable that’s your problem
Bitch ass nigga, do somethin’
I ain’t even have a bar right there, I just wanted to prove somethin’
Who want it? You gon die in the long race
This TEC, Pineapple Express, get fired across J
Fuck you
You can’t keep it real to yourself
Nigga suicide or I’ll do the job, you decide
My fault


[Round 3: JC]
Dome shots, won’t shit survive
If it do, it’ll leave a nigga blind
Shit, he gon have to feel for you
And every nigga in the field for you gon’ have to sympathize
I’m talkin’ open arms, like when I’m cleanin’ my .40
Put Rum down when I’m squeezin’ my 40
You niggas basic, nigga face it
Whatchu took, E? (Tookie)
The last time a crip got a shot from the Terminator he didn’t make it
Smack, wussup? I know this ain’t addin’ up
But that’s because Summer Madness 3 you don’t want nobody else to assume doin’ the math (Math Hoffa) for you
And I understand that, so this all me
And witout y’all I’m askin’
Rob Kardashian, I’ll leave and get rid of the bag for you
But I need a clear mind after this, ‘cause now I’m in every circle
And you gotta see me, more than a Everest commercial
That lil nigga JC, calm violence
Rappin’ like he’s some Kong giant
I’m not, but that notebook came from Skull Island
It’s that rare, and it ain’t a gimmick
But this shit you portrayin’, it ain’t convincin’
I’m savin’ you the hassle, Bobby Boucher before the tackle
Change the image
Newsflash: Nobody believed, from the way you handle them hammers in them videos, thatchu bustin’ them shots
Oooh, you make them guns look worse than Love & Hip Hop
Good try nigga, but I’m nice so say goodbye when the five hit ya
And snatch your soul like the right picture
Change-up (Changeup), ‘cause I don’t think the game’s stuck on the right picture (pitcher)
And everything that I throw strike, I’m talkin’ the best shit for the record
I couldn’t rest wit no effort
And since everything witchu is hit or miss, we gon make sure da mess stick (dometistic) to the record
I’m not a caregiver, I just work wit fire like a Airbender
And I’m this different
Tonight, we shootin’ like we got a problem wit everything
And we nitpickin’ (Nit pickin’)
Especially, when they tryin’ to kill you too, oh you gotta get closer
And make ‘em pass first like Popovich coached them
It’s all fundamentals, somethin’ I’m kinda mad you forgot
They still tryin’ to figure out a punchline for “after the shot”
It’s too small of a scheme
So, y’all be limited when y’all pass him his props
‘Cause he only stand tall through a dream
But I guess everybody wanna be the king until the balcony shot
But that’s why it’s not worth it
That’s why niggas criticize the form when…(the shot perfect!)
But you, oh you don’t hold the toast?
You vapin’, just blowin’ smoke
But that’s why we demandin’ the static
So cut the fraud shit
Ratchet old, but the arms ripped, I’m talkin’ Angela Bassett
I changed the game and the rules
How can you not acknowledge me?
That’s why every time I get in the ring with them, they end up in an octagon wit me
And I just tuck the piece, and just say “fuck peace”
I don’t even do subliminals I let the sub tweet (subtweet)
Like look and listen
See I never played roulette, it’s never a bullet missin’
I just untuck, and keep spittin’
Wit part of the piece spinnin’ like Young Buck
I don’t care who I’m after
You ain’t even safe at home
I slide past the hood like Dukes of Hazzard
That mean, I like to blast
A son flinch, that bitch come lightnin’ fast
And we even got somethin’ for the coffin
That mean we grab the nose and spray if any sign is (sinus) bad
Rum, it is over wit
Overdosed from the dopest pen
Y’all know I wrote this shit
‘Cause Summer Madness just turned into a eulogy
My condolences